If they came downstream they must hold fairly close to the banks where there were dim trails or at least openings among the trees and brush.
Con walked to the woodpile and threw the branch on it, then walked upstream about thirty yards and stopped.
If this was their route they would be confined in a space some forty or fifty yards across. Elsewhere they’d be in the river-bottom where the sound of horses’ hoofs on stones would give too much advance warning of their coming.
On his right, before one reached the bank, there was thick brush. Some trees, their roots still clinging to the bank above, leaned far out, shading the brush. Before the thick stand of brush were several rotting trees, fallen long years ago, their broken stumps all that remained.
He walked up to the brush. Peering through the slender trunks of the trees, he could see a small open space where some animal had bedded down. The brush along the bank above was impenetrable for anything larger than a bobcat.
The brush where the trees leaned over was actually a thick stand of aspens, few of them more than three inches in diameter, none exceeding five inches. As with all such stands, a number of trees had already died and fallen, their slender trunks criss-crossing among the waist-high brush that skirted the aspens and grew among the outer fringe of trees.
Con walked back to the house. “Put a little jerky together, some coffee and such-like. We’re going to camp out tonight.”
“Camp out?”
“Leave the fire burning and a couple of good logs that will last the night. Eat up now, and let’s move out. Bring your guns and all the ammunition.”
“Now, see here!” McKaskel objected. “I’m in no shape-”
“I’ll help you. We’re going to sleep yonder tonight.”
A half hour later, a tarpaulin rigged to keep out the rain, they were bedded down in the aspen. From inside there was more room than it appeared, for the back had a considerable overhang.
From their hiding place they had an excellent view of the cabin and all the area around it.
“Good!” McKaskel said. “Excellent!”
“This here’s for you. They’ll try slippin’ in close, so you’ve got to be quiet. When you see one of them… shoot.”
“Without warning?”
“Why not? They’d do it to you, and this here isn’t any war for prisoners. You’re thinkin’ about stayin’ alive, ma’am, and what if you got the drop on one of them and told him to put his hands up and he did? What would you do with him? There’s no law to turn him over to, no jail to hold him.”
“Where will you be?”
Con Vallian hitched his gunbelt. “I’m goin’ huntin’, ma’am. I figure to whittle ’em down a mite.”
“Be careful.”
He moved off quickly into the aspens. He would be careful, all right. With that Huron around he’d have to be.
Con Vallian had no idea of taking prisoners himself, but if he could put one or more of them out of action, it would shorten the odds.
When he was well away he glanced back. Certainly, no better place could have been chosen, for it was the least likely spot. It seemed to offer nothing, to be merely a narrow wall of brush at the foot of the bank that marked the river-bottom.
He moved quickly to the denser woods. This was no time for a horse. He wished again for moccasins, but had none, and moved almost as quietly in boots, putting each foot down carefully, avoiding broken branches and stiff brush that could scratch against clothes.
He squatted near some rocks in view of the cabin. It was dusk and the stark outlines of things were beginning to blend into one common darkness. He could see the grassy bottom where the old corral stood, but nothing moved. Once something brushed leaves near him and a deer passed within a few yards, unaware of his presence.
Red Hyle held a cup in his hands and sipped coffee. His powerful legs were spread wide, his boots planted solidly. He looked massive, immovable. “Vallian, is it? I’ve heard of him.”
“So have we all,” Purdy commented dryly. “He’s good. Damned good.”
“Maybe she lied,” Johnny Dobbs suggested. “Maybe she was tryin’ to scare us off.”
“Who’s scared?” Ike scoffed. “Vallian’s only one man.”
“He’s a good one,” Purdy said. “Maybe he’s the best.”
Red Hyle looked up sharply, staring at Purdy, and Purdy grinned at him. “Exceptin’ Hyle, here. Red could take him.”
Red stared at him. “Or maybe you could?” he sneered.
Purdy shrugged. “I’m not looking to… unless he crosses me. I think we’d better set back an’ take a long look at this here situation. What we got to decide is, is it worth it?”
“We could ride on to Cherry Creek. Miners come down from the diggin’s, loaded for bear. It should be easy, real easy.”
“I owe that woman,” Booster objected. “It was her hit me. I’d bet on it.”
Doc Shabbitt was silent. One way to remain a leader was to let the wind blow, then get ahead of it. Johnny was ready to pull out, and Purdy would vote that way, he was sure. Doc wanted Vallian dead for killing Lenny, but that could wait, and if he waited maybe Red would do it.
“Look at it,” Purdy said quietly. “We’ve lost two men. Lenny dead, and Pangman surely is, even if we never seen his body. Two dead and nothing to show, an’ now we know Vallian is in it I say we study this matter.”
Hyle turned his head. “Where’d you see them, Huron?”
“There… ” the Huron gestured vaguely. “I do not think they will be there now.”
“Gone to Cherry Creek, maybe?” Booster suggested.
“An’ leave their wagon?” Ike asked. “They’ll come back. Anyway, I figure they want to settle down, claim that land.”
Hyle got up. “We’ll ride down to the cabin.” He glanced around, his eyes cold. “We’ll all go.”
“Of course,” Doc agreed easily, “wasn’t that what we planned?”
One by one they went to their horses. Ike quickly, Purdy, smiling. Booster lagged a little, but tightened his cinch. “How far is it?” he asked.
“Three, four miles. Take us an hour, I figure, in the dark and all.”
“You figure to tackle Vallian in the dark?” Booster asked.
Purdy shrugged. “I wouldn’t take him away from Red,” he said, “Red Hyle can take him, and I know he wants him.”
Red Hyle said nothing. Purdy smiled to himself. He’ll turn his back on me, but he never would on Ike… not if they’d had words.
“We’ll wait until daybreak,” Shabbitt said. “We’ll move just before it gets light.”
Nobody argued the point. They swung to the saddle and walked their horses south to be within easy striking range of the cabin.
“Noticed a place,” Shabbitt said, “about a mile this side.”
They rode without talking, a surly silence of men without allegiance or loyalty, no one sure of he who rode beside him.
The place Doc led them to was just a hollow in the trees near the creek. It was shaped well for concealment and nobody would be apt to come up on them unexpectedly, even if anyone had been traveling this way, and no one was.
They tied their horses close and built a small fire. Red Hyle dealt a game of solitaire and Purdy napped against a tree. Doc Shabbitt stared into the flames, chewing on the stub of a cigar, while Ike Mantle slept and Booster stirred the fire, smoked innumerable cigarettes. The Huron sat cross-legged at one side, staring into the fire.
Johnny Dobbs stretched and yawned. Why did he ever get hooked up with this Shabbitt outfit? Damn it! What he really wanted to do was sleep. He’d like to go back to the fire and stretch out for a good night’s sleep.
The voice behind him was low, confidential. “Don’t turn around, my friend, because if you do I’ll have to kill you.”
“I ain’t movin’.”
“I’m Con Vallian, Dobbs. I knew you from away back. I am givin’ you a chance to show some judgment. I’m givin’ you a chance to fade out.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You’ll be the first man I’ll kill. I think you know me, Dobbs, and even if you get away I’ll follow you down and shoot you on sight.”
“I ain’t scared. I ain’t a bit scared… same time, I’d as soon get shut of this deal. It ain’t my kind of a show.”
“My feeling exactly, Dobbs. Well, you ridin’?”
Dobbs’ mind scurried like a cornered rat, hunting any way out. “Look, I can’t get my horse. They’d kill me. Give me a break an’ I’ll fall back and light out like a scared rabbit.”
“All right, Dobbs. Either way you choose, this here is goodbye.”
Dobbs hesitated. “Goodbye,” he said quickly, and he meant it.